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I even started taking the cash, mostly because I was much too useful to let a little thing like guilt get in the way of common sense. I would have been simply another fifteen-year-old catholic schoolgirl, doing her homework, doing her nails, doing the little silly things that little girls do. I had not been a little woman in a long period of time though. Deke didn't mind, he said that was a great thing because he might actually charge more, specifically if the person I was going with picked me up at school. That benefit turned out to be worth a couple of hundred dollars extra, although I didn't truly like it.

Method too much for a ninth grader to spend, even after Deke took his cut. Picking me up at school was worth an additional 200, which I believed was ridiculous, however you 'd be stunned how lots of men desired precisely that. Like it showed beyond a doubt that they were getting the real offer, an underage slut to draw and fuck . These were all older men too, like my dad's age, or regularly even older, in their 40's and 50's mostly. They had a lot of money to spend and it was the tips that truly flushed my savings account. Deke gave me 30% and kept 70% for himself. He said that was generous since he was my manager, my agent, my security man, my marketing and transportation all rolled into one. He purchased my clothing and the stuff I need to work, like condoms and lube and junk like that. He did all the work if you listened to him inform it, and all I did was lay there and get rich. That wasn't real. It was more like acting than anything else since I needed to actually like these people for an hour or two. I had to act younger sometimes too, as a little lady perhaps eleven or twelve years old; but never ever older. None of the men spending for me desired a woman, simply a woman, and understanding that I actually was just fifteen, that was the kicker for them. I liked acting though and I believe I had a genuine skill for it. I had a talent for the sex things anyway, no doubt about that, and the more I did it the better I got.

Mary Magdalene had been a slut. That's where I took my comfort and she 'd become my tutelary saint. I 'd felt actually guilty initially, however that had actually disappeared when I realized I wasn't injuring anybody. The men liked me for a little bit, although a few of them liked me for real and asked me if I 'd marry them, or at least come back to their cities and cope with them. They were in love with who I pretended to be for that brief time we were together, that's all, and while part of me felt lonely due to the fact that I understood it wasn't truly me they liked, mostly I felt a little safer that method. Like a guy who liked me wouldn't harm me, you know? I 'd had sex with like fifty men or something, most of them desiring me to call them Daddy while we did it. Some of them desired to call me by a different name, their daughter's name, or a niece or the little girl next door perhaps.

I could close my eyes and envision the man who was making love to me truly was my father. I might speak to him, tell him I liked him, how he made me feel developed and special and liked. And someplace, somehow along that ride, I 'd started to think it. I 'd go home and see my real father and nearly forget that it had not been him that I 'd fucked an hour or 2 before. However I was falling in love, in full-grown love, and I couldn't help it. It was programmed into me, maturing not as his child but as his partner. We 'd done everything but skilled our relationship, I believed, and he had to feel the same way. Didn't he?

 

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